I am not a car person. It’s so bad I can’t even remember the color of my current car, much to my children’s astonishment. My standards have never been high: I’m happy as long as the car is running from point A to point B. I’m happy as long as the doors lock; as a kid, I can remember how we had to hold tight to a loop of bailing twine when going around corners in order to keep the door closed in a neighbor’s old clunker (a car designated to “stay close to home”). I have no sentimentality about old cars. That was until our steadfast ‘05 Toyota Corolla met its final end last month.

When we bought the Corolla, our son, Sam, was only seven years old. Flash forward 10 years, and the Corolla began a second life as “Sam’s car,” since we kept it for him to drive after he got his license in October of 2015. And it was a great first car for him until this past month, when it finally succumbed to the massive amount of rust that had overtaken its frame.

As the story goes, Sam, home from college on break for Thanksgiving, took the car for its final spin down to Hancock to a party of his high-school friends. Of course he (with his friend, Jeremy) drove by a circuitous route via Lordville Road when something went clunk and then the steering went. Slowly, pulling to the right, they naturally continued onward. And gratefully, the car did manage its final obligation of delivering Sam and Jeremy to the party and then safely home again in the wee hours of the morning.

But the parent’s prophecy had come true: this car was not going to last forever. This was a claim that Sam had continuously denied whenever we broached the subject of the car’s deteriorating condition. We had limited it to only local trips—to Callicoon or Hancock—and didn’t even equip it with snow tires last winter so that he could drive it only on clear roads. Still, it racked up plenty of miles, ending at a final mileage of 179,014 and a storied past.

Sam used the Corolla to get to school each day during his senior year and to cover many stories for The Hancock Herald, where he worked as a reporter and photographer during his high school years. He will forever remember it for its many trips around the Cannonsville Reservoir, covering the problems with the dam there in 2015. And who can forget the time last summer when he raced it up the mountain in Rock Valley to take photos of a brush fire? That car could chase fire trucks with the best of them.

John also likes to remember the time I hit a “huge” raccoon one night on the way home from a church service, when (unbeknownst to me) I busted out the grille of the car. It wasn’t discovered until the next morning, which happened to be Thanksgiving morning. John and the kids went down to search for the broken parts along Route 97 while I stayed home to baste the turkey. And eventually, John glued it all back together. There are too many stories, fender benders, bust- ups and duct-tape repairs to count.

To complete its full life, we donated the Corolla to the Car Talk Vehicle Donation Program to benefit WJFF public radio. Through the program, we were eligible for a tax break and free towing. I like to think that the Corolla’s spirit is still out there though—traveling the byways of Delaware County, visiting the McDonald’s drive through, and taking a spin around the Cannonsville Reservoir.

So long, good car!